Alternate Perspectives
by We Are The Lost Boys
Summary: Three stories set before, during and after the original Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling. The first story is of Lily and James' inevitbale meet with Lord Voldemort, the second is Draco Malfoys' inner struggle with his feelings for Hermione Granger and the third is a story of George Weasley's loss of his twin brother, Fred.
1. Chapter 1

The Time Before.

"_Murder's out of tune,_

_And sweet revenge grows harsh."_

_- William Shakespeare, Othello._

Golden meadows dance in the summer breeze, slowly swaying as the whistling symphony crescendos. Lily Potter watches the performance as her car pushes across the countryside, the sun light melting into the notes. The brilliant green of her eyes watch the meadow fade from gold to grey in a wordless tune, eyes hovering along the very literal horizon. Face haunted by shadows. Lily's white skin glows as the darkness begins to encompass her. A song escaping her lips drifts her baby, in the back seat, to sleep.

Her husband steals a glance at the beautiful red head in the seat beside him. She is effortless, graceful. Like the moon. She wouldn't push the clouds away to be seen. Never teasing, never taunting. Never hateful or selfish. When people insult each other the moon sits passively, watching. It doesn't lower itself to participate in an action so weak. The moon is beautiful. His unconsciousness revisited the moment his blue eyes first found her green; a colourful girl next to a boy in black. Shadowed in darkness; deceptive. James replayed the first conversation he had with the boy…

_- Why are you looking at her?_

_- What is it to you?_

_- I'm allowed to ask questions._

_- What's your name?_

_- Severus Snape._

_- Alright, Snivellus..._

Reliving the conversation stirred repressed feelings within James Potter. The ten years separating him from Severus Snape barely fumbled at the surface of forgiveness. James' blood still seethes at the thought of Snape's willingly chosen servitude. The circle he takes pride in. _Voldemort's_ circle. The very circle that is hunting them like wolves as they travel across the swaying countryside, hunting his family for no reason other than a cryptic prediction_._ His hands began to grip the steering wheel with an unconscious force, his knuckles assuming the colour of snow. James could understand Snape's betrayal towards him, but to Lily? The only person in the world who saw through the baggy clothes and greasy hair? He shook his head in jagged twists, trying unsuccessfully to relieve the raging tension.

A cold hand fluttered at the side of James', lingering. The spell that had gripped his enraged emotions was broken just by the touch. His hands relaxed on the steering wheel, its suffocation ended. His eyes momentarily fell into Lily's green, just as they had all those years ago, before his mind, once again, focussed on their destination.

_- You're alright you know, James._

_- I know._

_- I thought you would._

James flicked on the headlights, suddenly aware that their car was consumed in black nothingness. The lights caught a flash of something lurking by the road. It appeared to be a shaggy dog, but as the car got closer, James became aware of its size and the razor sharp teeth protruding from its rotting mouth. It was growling as they approached, its red eyes cursing the car. The relaxed state James had just acquired was gone, all his strength now focussed on masking the fear inside of him for Lily's sake. This wasn't an ordinary dog; it was the Grim, the omen of misfortune, of death. As their car began to pass the Grim, it lunged at the moving vehicle straight at Lily's door, teeth bared. James froze, helpless, waiting for the splintering impact… but it didn't come. He slammed on the breaks, whirling out of the car, his wand at the ready.

But the road was empty. Cold hands wrenching at his body where he stood, pinching his bare arms he stood for a minute before finally accepting that the Grim wasn't in sight. He lowered himself into the driver's seat, and turned to face Lily. She was twisted around in her seat playing with their baby's feet; eventually she turned to face James.

_- Everything alright?_

_- I just thought I saw something._

_- That was a pretty big reaction for someone who _thought_ they saw something.._

James laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

_- Alright then. _

Lily smiled and turned back to the road, a lullaby flowing from her lips in a river of sound. James turned the key in the ignition and took off down the road. His mind was reeling, he knew what he had seen, and there was no possible way that any ordinary dog could disappear as quickly. The sighting drifted James between reality and reverie...

_Dumbledore stood, hunched, on their porch in the blistering cold, rambling about a prophecy, a prophecy intertwining his family's lives with Lord Voldemort. _

_- The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. _

_Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes bore into James, a silent message within. Realisation made James feel like he was falling, slipping into dark crevices of the night, the moon howling a distant wail._

_- But Harry's a baby.. Dumbledore.. you must be wrong.. you.._

_His faltering words came out helplessly in a harsh, harrowing sound._

_- How.. How does Voldemort know?_

_Dumbledore lowered his silver head for a brief moment, before his eyes pierced Lily. James heard her intake of breath._

_- No.. Severus couldn't.. He-_

_- Is a servant of Lord Voldemort, Lily, you must know that. He cowered to his Master's power. _

_A mid Lily's shock, James managed to gather Dumbledore's rattling instructions. They were to be taken to a safe house in Godrics Hollow, protected by the Fidelious Charm and a Secret Keeper. The Secret Keeper must be someone who they trusted completely as the spell could only be broken by their betrayal..._

James was broken from his revere as their car rumbled their way onto the cobblestone roads of Godrics Hollow, the town where they would finally have a place to stay, no more travelling to unknown locations, a home. The streets were filled with lanterns, children crowding in a park. The smell of ginger bread wafted into their moving car.

_- It's safe. Isn't it, James? The house?_

_- Dumbledore says it is and I trust his judgement._

_- But what about our Secret Keeper? Do you trust him?_

James thought of his best friend, Sirius Black. They had met each other on their first journey to Hogwarts and had been breaking rules together ever since. He trusted Sirius above anyone. He was the only choice for Secret Keeper, so when he refused, saying that it would be the obvious choice, James didn't know who to ask. It was only on Sirius' suggestion of trying someone who Voldemort wouldn't think of, that Peter Pettigrew came to mind. He wasn't the bravest, or smartest, person that James knew, but he was loyal.

Their car rolled over the bumps in the main road before they soon turned off into their street.

The curving driveway, lined with deep green bushes, took them to a two story cottage on a slight hill. Lily jumped out of the car before it had completely stopped and ran to the front porch to get a better view. Parking the car, James reached around for Harry, before making his way to stand with his wife. Intertwining their hands Lily pushed the door open. It creaked open and revealed a candle lit house, fully furnished with a brilliant orange fire glowing in the first room to the left. Harry wriggled out of James' arms and waddled along exploring his new home. James eyes followed him until his attention caught on an envelope above the fire.

- _Lily and James, welcome to your new home! I took the liberty of furnishing it for you. I do hope you like it. I've been told that the lounges are particularly comfortable. Bathilda Bagshot, whose books I'm sure you will remember from your years at Hogwarts, is a close friend of mine, I do suggest getting to know her. She is trustworthy and will not betray your location. I'm only the swish of a wand away if you need me. Good luck, Potters'. Albus Dumbledore._

As James lowered to letter a small hand brushed his. He looked down at its delicate touch.

_- Do you like your new house, Harry?_

Harry just stared into his Father's eyes. James bent down and scooped up his son, amazed at how quickly the first year of his life had flown by. He rocked Harry in his arms, his scruffy hair sticking out at all angles.

_- I think I'll put him in his cradle now. _

Lily, appearing in the doorway, held a bottle in one hand. James gently handed Harry to his Mother's welcoming arms. He watched Lily walk up the stairs before turning around and saying to himself in a gravelly whisper,

_- Please be strong, Peter.._

James thought that the house would take some getting used to, but the trusted guests were constantly flying to and from the house proclaiming news of the Wizarding World and Voldemort's travels. No one ever spoke of Peter. The days went by in this fashion, never one alike another. The days where Sirius arrived on the porch brought James great joy, and Lily relished in the company of Bathilda Bagshot, who had arrived on the porch on their first morning in Godrics Hollow rapping persistently on their front door.

The day before Halloween, two months after their arrival, James answered the door, to find Peter Pettigrew on their doorstep.

_- Peter! _

_- Peter? James? Did you just day.. Peter! It's so good to see you!_

Peter began to mumble a reply when Harry crawled through James' legs. Seeing Harry, Peter let out a noise that resembled a strangled goose. James' eyes narrowed, confused at Peter's reaction to the boy he was protecting.

_- Is everything okay, Peter?_

_- Fine, its.. fine._

James looked at Lily who shrugged and invited Peter inside. James felt he could see the battle raging inside Peter's head as he tried to answer. A slight spasm was the closest they got to a 'yes'.

They sat in the living room by the fire, with Lily and James both attempting conversations with Peter, every attempt only ever one sided. Peter had always been strange, but this behaviour was extreme, even for him. Lily was mid way through a sentence when Peter stood abruptly, announcing he had to leave. Peter had reached the living room doorframe when he turned and looked James in the eye with such an intensity that nobody would have known him capable of. Peter's mouth began to twitch, trying to release his voice,

_- I'm.._

He didn't finish the sentence, but bolted out the front door, leaving the Potter's staring after him dumbfounded.

James couldn't help remembering the Grim.

Footsteps on their porch alerted the Potters' to a new presence. Bathilda Bagshot's head soon poked around the living room doorframe.

_- I almost got trampled by a fat man resembling a rat!_

Her face held so much confusion, making it was impossible for Lily and James not to laugh.

James spent most of Halloween splitting wood for the forecasted cold front expected for Godrics Hollow. By sunset he was exhausted and gladly accepted the butterbeer Lily had waiting for him.

_- Thank you._

James drank to soothing drink by the window, watching the sun kiss the horizon. He stood there watching the world fall into a crimson glow, but Peter's behaviour still toyed on James' mind. He closed his eyes as darkness crawled along the horizon, hoping to relax, but was greeted with the razor sharp teeth and ferocious growl of the Grim. He snapped his eyes open at the sound of smashing glass. Spinning around to found the source, it took some time to realise he had dropped his butterbeer. All around him was silence, life seemingly swallowed by the darkness beyond the window. Lily's troubled face appearing at his shoulder.

_- Take Harry. I'll clean this up. Go relax._

James plonked himself down on the red armchair beside the fire, placing his wand on the table beside him; he lifted Harry onto his lap. James fell into the enchantment of the fire, dancing and creating shadows on the wall. A creak of the front gate briefly distracted him from the orange flames, but the sound was soon entangled with the fatigued whisper of the wind, allowing James to be overpowered by the devilish shadows. Another sound at James' ear caught his attention, the shadows receding into the fire. Harry was pulling at his Father's shirt, staring out into the darkness of the night. Somebody was outside. James warily stood.

_- Lily..?_

A footstep slithering on their front porch threw him into action.

_- Lily! Take Harry and go upstairs!_

Seeing her hesitation he added,

_- Now!_

Lily hurried to her husband, her eyes searching him. He couldn't stop the Grim, his fate, flashing to the forefront of his mind. His death was inevitable, but Lily's wasn't. James pulled Lily into a tight embrace, before kissing his confused son on the forehead and handing him to his Mother.

_- I love you, Lily! But you have to trust me and go! Now, go! GO!_

_- James! What-_

_- There is no time! Go! _

Lily managed to get half way up the stairs before the front door was blasted open. James was in the hallway in a blur, screaming up at Lily through to thick wall of dust, his face filled with desperation, a fool's courage in his heart. A dark hooded figure began to take shape.

_- Take Harry and go! Lily, go! It's him! I'll hold him off! Go!_

His hand instinctively reached for his wand in his jeans pocket. James new his face had paled.

He didn't have a wand.

James defiantly lifted his head to face the assassin; he wasn't going to die a coward. Voldemort raised his wand, his cloak hood not hiding the formation of a twisted smile.

_- Avada Kedavra!_

The killing curse shot towards James in a electric green light, Voldemort's laughter echoing around him. He thought he heard Lily call his name as the green light blinded him, but it was too late; his body was already crumpling to the round.

Years later a scruffy haired boy, in baggy clothes, turned to his neat, long necked Aunt. Written upon his face was a clear sign of purpose.

_- How did my parents die?_

The woman, Petunia Dursley, turned to face the boy, her dull grey eyes stared into his unnaturally bright green, in every respect the same as her dead sisters, right down to its glisten. She could tell him the truth, but nothing in her cared to. Her eyes traced a line from his eyes to his forehead, where, still visible although her efforts to conceal it, was a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt. Petunia decided then and there she would never be the one to tell him the truth.

_- It was a car crash, and don't ask questions._


	2. Chapter 2

The Time Within.

_"I pray you, do not fall in love with me,  
For I am falser than vows made in wine."_

_- William Shakespeare, As You Like It._

Holding his arm out to catch the light he inspected the silver necklace one last time, it was perfect. Attaching the letter and small box to the owl's outstretched leg, Draco paused, not to think about the night that lay ahead of him, just paused. And for once took in his surroundings. No precedence of pride or wealth was acknowledged or needed within the owlery. He was free of that burden. The tall, deep green pine trees capped with snow were the only visible colouring under the blanket of white. But somehow this green breaking through was all he needed to feel at peace. For all his duties as a Malfoy to be swept aside, put to rest for this moment.

A muffled sneeze from behind him brought his painful reality crashing back down, encircling him like a vulture. He sent the owl flying and turned to face the intruder.

_- Sorry, I tried to be silent._

The voice almost squeaked, fear written upon her face.

His heart thudded loudly as he heard her voice, yet he still only nodded curtly in her direction. The girl was standing beside one of the school's dark brown owls, the feathers harmonising with the rich chocolate of her eyes. His trademark Malfoy sneer was once again plastered on Draco's face, masking it from the surge of emotions running through him at Hermione Granger's presence. Turning he made his way to the exit, pulling open the old wooden doors. Draco faltered as he took a step out of the door, but continued on, ignoring the sigh behind him.

The pounding rhythm of his purposeful footsteps as he descended the steep stairs of the owlery regulated his heart. As he reached the final step he turned to look back at the owlery. It was half obscured by gracefully falling snow. He saw the brown owl take flight. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Had the brown-eyed girl been there but a minute earlier, he would have had no need for the owl to deliver the necklace.

The winter air was tightening and tore at his lungs on the icy journey back to the castle. When he finally pushed open the entrance doors Draco was shivering from the bitter cold, his stomach let out a rumble betraying his ravenous state. Glancing at his watch lunch was just about to start. At this moment the grandfather clocks deafening _boom_ rattled through the air. No sooner had he begun to make his way in its direction, than the thundering of approaching students began to echo around him, erupting in chatter that appeared to bounce of the walls. From the snippets of conversation he heard, Draco deciphered that most was revolving around the Yule Ball tonight.

_- Yes I heard that Harry Potter was taking.. Yes! Flitwick was talking about that!.. I wish I was invited.. It better be worth it, those dance classes were horrible..._

Sitting at the Slytherin table he felt that something was missing.. it struck him when Pansy's drawling voice wasn't trying to catch his attention.

Where were the girls?

Sure, there were girls in the Hall, but all those in Fourth Year and above were absent. Surely they weren't getting ready now? They still had four hours! These thoughts vanished from his mind as the lunch appeared in front of him. The house elves in the kitchen had out done themselves today. Draco sniggered at his appreciation of them, if his Father had been able to read his thoughts at that moment.. Well it would be worth it to be able to witness his spluttering reaction. He spent half an hour gorging on sandwiches, soup and fresh biscuits, and waited a polite half an hour more in silence for his fellow Slytherins to finish their lunch, before excusing himself and exiting the Great Hall. Three hours to go, Draco thought he might as well head to the library for an hour or two and start his Potion's essay.

When Draco arrived back to his dormitory two hours later, satisfied by what he had achieved in the library, there were three boxes staring at him from his four-poster bed, they were accompanied by a letter emblazed with the Malfoy insignia. He picked up the letter first, slicing it open with his finger.

_- Draco, the two large boxes contain your dress robe selection. One is what you asked for directly. The other is what your Mother and I advise and would prefer you to wear. I do hope you take the advice. Inquire after Pansy for us, you will find something for her to wear tonight within the smaller box, it matches her gown. Make sure she receives it. Your Mother sends her love. Lucius Malfoy._

Draco stared at the letter. Questioning,

_- Love to whom?_

Placing the letter on his bedside table Draco lifted the lid of the first box. It was his Mother and Father's selection: black dress robes accompanied with a red tie. Although elegantly made, his mind had been set on his own choice.

He eagerly turned to the second box, hands already reaching for the lid. Its contents were exactly what Draco had been hoping for. Although his parents showed clear signs of disapproval at the design they would never have sent him anything that was less than what he had asked for, a typical trait of his Mother's. Draco laid the silver suit on his bed, placing the blue tie between the layers and black shoes at the foot.

His mood darkened as his attention was drawn to the small box still lying untouched. Ripping off the packaging to look within he caught sight of a magically enhanced pearl necklace. It had been made to glisten without light touching it and was blacker than the stroke of midnight.

_- Just like her soul._

The petty thought escaped Draco's lips before he could prevent it.He threw the box up once, catching it as it fell straight back into the palm of his hand, measuring its weight. Draco took aim and threw it out the half-closed window at the other end of the dormitory. He couldn't help the smile forming on his lips. Checking the time he saw that he had half an hour until students attending the ball were to be outside the Great Hall. Draco dressed into his silver dress robe and turned to the mirror to carefully place his tie around his neck. When he was happy he turned to his top draw and pulled out a photo, he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. Replacing it carefully within the drawer, he noticed it didn't shut properly, but Draco wasn't fussed. Feeling pleased with his appearance, he left his dormitory.

The hush of the common room sent a deathly chill through Draco's bones as he meandered across the black tiles, illuminated by the dark green of the lake above. The diminishing rays of sunlight found their way into the Slytherin common room, creating the only light source in the fading afternoon glow. The sun was trickling away, reminding Draco of blood from a wound. Brilliant green flames crackled to life within the fireplace, creating a substitute light, as he watched the final pure rays disappear beneath the pool of green, the darkness nagging at the sunlight to evaporate into the setting day. The door handle beneath Draco's clenched hand twitched, releasing his iron grip. It swung inwards and the frame was flooded with red. Draco moved to evade the torrent, but it had already blocked his escape.

_- There's no need to show your admiration so openly, Draco._

He could have gagged. Nothing about Pansy Parkinson appealed to him. Her eyes showed no intelligence, no wit. His parents' ignorance to the failure of their pairing again seared through him in a wave of anger. They had no common ground; it could only end in tragedy. She stared at him expectantly; waiting for the appropriate compliment he always paid her. The green flames licked the corner of his vision, catching the fire within him.

_- Comment pouvez-vous vivre dans ce rêve?_

The words muttered their way from Draco's mouth.

_- What does that mean?_

The flattery echoed within her voice threatened Draco's last meal to reappear.

_- Comment pouvez-vous vivre dans ce cauchemar?_

_- Enough, Draco. Don't you have something for me?_

He could see her eyes scanning his robes, searching for the hidden gift she believed he had.

_- Does it look like I have something for you?_

He feigned oblivion. A baffled expression consumed Pansy's face and Draco chose this moment to break through her crumbling barrier. He marched toward the Yule Ball alone leaving the red girl, stunned, in his wake.

His determined stride away from Pansy eventually slowed to an even pace. His thoughts began to roll around in his head.

- _Would she wear the necklace? Would she work it out after seeing him in the owlery today?_

He came to a complete halt and took a deep breath, he was being ridiculous. Glancing at his watch Draco let out a sharp breath, he should already be there. Setting off again he quickened his pace, but not so much that he would arrive ruffled. His family name held a standard Draco was to uphold, otherwise, his father would hear about it.

He arrived as the Professors were ushering the crowd of students into the hall. As he passed a few groups of people he heard a few intakes of breath and some Third Year girls, who had been lucky to gain an invitation, giggle. Draco sent them an icy stare. If there was one thing that he had inherited from his father it was his loathing of being laughed at, and giggling counted. He hated how the trait was his fathers, but there wasn't much he could do about it except watch the girls retreat into the hall. As he was one of the last to arrive he was pushed to the back of the crowd to watch the champions enter with their partners. Not that he particularly minded. Draco was fiddling with his watch as they entered, not paying particular attention, until Hermione's name caught his attention. He craned his neck over the crowd, cursing that he hadn't gotten there earlier, because there she was, attending the Yule Ball with, none other than, Victor Krum.

Krum. Draco couldn't believe it. He sunk down into the closest chair, confused at his reaction. Was he really going to get emotional over this? No. He stood again, a little too defiantly, as some people threw him confused looks. The Champions began to dance: Harry Potter and Lavender Brown, Fleur Delacour and Rodger Davies, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, Victor Krum and Hermione Granger.

Her blue dress flowed around her. It reminded Draco of the first and only time his parents had taken him to the beach, the surprising beauty of the water rolling in and kissing the sand. Krum lifted her into the air, his hands on her waist, spinning her around, the light catching on her dress.

And, something silver around her neck.

Draco's shock at this observation left him standing like a statue. He wasn't aware of people moving around him until he was almost alone at the back of the Hall. Almost.

Pansy was watching him, with a hideous grin upon her face. It reminded him of a hyena taunting its cornered prey. Pansy broke the stalemate and crossed no man's land to stand directly in front of Draco, blocking his view.

- _You may not think much of me, Draco Malfoy. But you're going to have to learn to change your attitude._

_- There is nothing you could do or say, Pansy, to make that happen._

Hurt flashed across her face, but was replaced with her previous smile. Draco couldn't help but feel a little off putted at the sight of it.

_- I really doubt that. You see, you left me standing there feeling quite ridiculous earlier. I _really_ didn't appreciate it._

The attempt at a sweet voice could not harbour the rising threat. Draco's lips felt dry.

_- I knew something wasn't right with you, and as you were the last male leaving for the ball.._

Pansy paused, her smile widening.

_- You should really know that the last person to leave their dormitory is supposed to lock the door._

Draco licked his lips, they were beginning to crack. Pansy was clearly relishing in the power she held over him.

_- At first I was just looking for my present. Yes, I know about the present, Draco, your Mother sent me a letter, she would be _very _disappointed in you for not giving it too me. But your top drawer was slightly opened, and, you know me. I'm curious. But what I found, Draco, what would your dear father think?_

Her mockery was stretching Draco to breaking point. His hand twitched, ready to reach for his wand. Pansy must have realised that she'd reached his limit as she pulled her, previously unnoticed, clenched fist in between them and Draco knew there was only one possibility of what it could be. Pansy's hand unfolded and he saw the photo he'd only looked at but two hours previous. He'd cut it out of 'Young Witches and Wizards: Hogwarts' Most Promising Students' article over a year ago now, the article both he and Hermione had been chosen for. Draco's hand moved to take the photo from Pansy, but she hid it from his view.

_- Ah, Draco.. Oh, this won't do. This won't do at all._

Pansy's eyes closed, for a brief moment, and opened simultaneously with her palm, but before Draco could try and reclaim his photo it burst into flames, disintegrating faster than the flash of a camera. Pansy moved to stand by his side. They both watched Hermione dance, Draco's fury boiling his blood and Pansy bathing in her power over him.

_- I'll make this simple for you, Draco. Forget your stupid fantasies and nothing will happen to your.. precious.. little.. Mudblood. _

Pansy accentuated her final words, pushing their meaning into Draco's flabbergasted face.

_- And, Draco. Don't take this lightly. Your Father and I, well, let's just say that he'd believe my word over yours. Especially when it's to do with the bloodline he would do anything to preserve. I'll find you toward the end of the Ball and you can walk me back to the common room, do at least something that would make your Parent's proud._

As she turned away Draco's eyes moved back toward Hermione, but thoughts of his Father and their Pureblood status nagged at his thoughts. There was no denying that Pansy spoke the truth, there was not much Lucius Malfoy wouldn't do. Draco's thought back to his second year, where Lucius was the catalyst for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. He had almost killed Hermione then, unintentionally, and well, if he had an intention to kill her.. Draco shook his head, and as he did so returned to the moment where he had seen Hermione moments before she was petrified by the Basilisk.

_It was minutes before Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in Quiddich, but Hermione was headed in the opposite direction, to the library. It was a typical habit for Hermione, but not when the flood of students was trying to push her in the opposite direction. The sight of her determined face swimming upstream caught Draco's attention, so he followed her. In the library she entered the 'Dangerous Creatures' section, and pulled down the biggest book on the shelf. Draco hid himself in a position to see, but not be seen. He watched her look around, almost as if she was crossing a road, and then tear out a page and crumple it up in her hand. Draco felt his jaw drop, Hermione Granger defiling a book? It was like Neville Longbottom coming first in Potions class, unheard of. What was she up to? Hermione replaced the book, pulled something out of her bag and headed to the library's exit. Not understanding her behaviour Draco walked back to the Quiddich match, only to arrive upon its cancellation by another attack on a student._

_It would be hours later that he would hear Hermione Granger was found, petrified, holding a mirror._

He should have known then and there that she had figured out the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk, that she was using the mirror to not look it directly in the eye. He didn't protect her then, but, could he protect her now?

Krum was spinning her around again, but this time Hermione caught Draco's eye as she completed the first rotation. On her second, she craned her neck to look at him, her brown curls whipping Krum in the eye. Draco chuckled at her expression of mortification and moved to sit with his silent, Slytherin friends at a nearby table. Draco didn't know how long he sat at the table, catching sight of Hermione every now and then looking for something, for _him_? He didn't know. Pansy's irritating tap on his shoulder telling him that it was time to go, filled him with a sense of dread, leaving the Hall with Pansy would take him away from any chance with Hermione. But one look at her smiling face told him that it would be the best gift he could ever give her. The way to save her from endless turture, Draco realised. Pansy, already at the door, ushered for him

He continued his determined stride out of the Great Halls golden double doors, faltering only once.

Faltering only to take one final glance.

_- Look at me, please._

As if feeling his silent plea, Hermione Granger shifted to face the doors, catching the eye of the boy in silver. With their eyes locked Hermione cocked her head to one side, her hands moving to her throat in striking realisation. Draco only had moments left. He let his heart feel one final surge of happiness, seeing her lips call his name, before turning away as the clock _boomed, _beginning its to count to twelve.

Each boom taking him further and further away from her.

Silencing his feelings forever.


	3. Chapter 3

The Time After.

"_.. So we grew together_

_Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,_

_But yet an union partition,_

_Two lovely berries moulded on one stem."_

_- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream._

Trudging the hallways of the battle worn Hogwart's Castle, George felt that he was willingly walking into the darkness of a nightmare. Engulfing loneliness and instantaneous grief led his feet towards the place where he lost the most important person in his life.

His best friend.

His brother.

The air around George chilled; he felt its icy grip scraping against his arms. As his eyes registered where he stood the previous chill was nothing to the immense pain he felt running throughout his entire being as he stood where his twin brother had died during the battle. There was no mark on the ground, no grotesque smear of blood for George to know this was where Fred had been in his final moment. He just knew.

The tears he expected to flow down his cheeks in a raging torrent did not appear.

_- I'm sorry, Fred._

He couldn't stand like a grieving statue anymore. So, he ran. The moment where he knew something was wrong flashing within his mind.

_An indescribable amount of pain pounded against his chest, the pressure making him gasp out loud, his wand falling to the ground, the war against Voldemort forgotten. He collapsed against one of Hogwart's cold walls, barely noticing his older brother, Charlie, blocking a spell that would have surely hit him. The urgency in his voice hardly registering in George's brain, the frantic questions muted. Georges left hand clutched at his chest in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure as if it were tangible, as if he were the one who had been hurt._

_- I need to find Fred._

_His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, barely audible to George's own ears._

_- Something's happened._

_The searching look Charlie gave George was filled with worry. The expression mirroring that of his father, fourteen years previous, when George was six and the twins had been separated for the first time as a punishment for a practical joke gone too far. The same desperation, the same need to find his brother lingered in George's eyes even after all the years separating him from that moment. _

_Charlie nodded and pulled George up from the wall he had sunk on to, staring him right in the eyes._

_- Is it Fred?_

_- Something's wrong. Charlie, I.._

_- Let's go._

_They hurried down the corridor passing the portraits that cheered them on. Taking a sharp right George clamped his left hand over his chest. The pressure had subdued but its lingering presence was still with him. No, not _him.

_He swallowed the pain and broke into a sprint, turning corners every now and then. From what George remembered Fred was stationed with his other brother, Percy, at the opposite end of the castle, which was where George and Charlie were headed now. More than once they had to stop to hex a death eater blocking their path or help a student, but George would immediately resume his path, Charlie quick at his heels. It was ten minutes later that they were walking cautiously down what used to be a corridor, now left in ruins, that George let out a strangled cry and ran foreword._

_- Fred! Get up, Fred. Come on.._

_George's voice was shaking now as his tried to force the tears down. But Fred didn't move, he didn't open his eyes. George felt a sob rising in his throat as he gathered his brother in his arms, pressing their foreheads together, watching his tears flow down Fred's face. Charlie gently touched his shoulder, but George's eyes stayed on his brother's identical face. A sharp pain radiated throughout George's chest as he cradled Fred's body in his lap, pushing his too long, flaming red hair back from his eyes. _

_He was only vaguely aware of Voldemort's booming voice echoing around the castle, viciously demanding Harry Potter's life. But his attention was focussed on Fred, his last smile still etched upon his face. George wiped a trickle of blood tracing its way from Fred's mouth. He gently placed his trembling hand on his brother's face in a vain attempt to hold onto its warmth, resting his other hand in Fred's hair, wishing his brother would wake up, _needing_ him to wake up. The alternative was in-comprehensible..._

George felt his feet come to a stop, taking a sharp intake of breath. Because there was an alternative that he would have to face. His brother, Fred Weasley, was dead.

He raised his head to take in his whereabouts, as his mind had not been following his direction whilst running…

The room he stood alone in was relatively unharmed from the battle. Parts of the walls had crumbled from the vibrations leaving a thick layer of dust on the ground billowing around George's feet whenever he moved. There was a single ray of sunlight shining through a window at the top of the room, giving the illusion of dancing dust. The light reflected off something in the corner of the room catching George's eye. It looked like an old cupboard, with a pattern around its frame. On his closer inspection it was an old, dusty mirror.

George approached and ran his hand across the exterior of the mirror, brushing away a thin line of dust at his eye level. His own eyes staring back at him. The exact same as Fred's. He abruptly looked away and began to wonder at the intricate pattern around the edge of the mirror. It was mostly of leaves and vines, but there was something else at the top, just out of his eye reach. He pulled out his wand and silently summoned a chair to his feet. Standing on it he let his hands brush away the dust piling on top of the letters. It read: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

A nagging memory pulled a George's mind; he knew he had heard that before.. Something that Ron, his youngest brother, told him? Curiosity of the mirror overwhelmed George, he conjured up a brown cloth and a bucket of water and set to work at returning the mirror to what must have been its former glory. The manual labour of cleaning was a welcomed feeling, every aspect of his mind focussed on every stroke. The time that must have past as George delicately washed the mirror could have been anywhere from ten minutes to three hours. At last, satisfied that all the dust was removed George lowered his head and backed away, wiping a thin layer of sweat off his forehead as he went. He lifted his head to admire his work and take in the full beauty of the mirror. The moment his eyes settled on the newly cleaned surface he fell backwards sending the bucket of dirty water flooding around him. He was no longer the only person in the mirror. George was staring into the eyes of his brother.

_- Fred?_

Fred's name formed on his lips again as he stood and whirled around, spraying water droplets in every direction. He was undecided as to whether hug or attack his brother.

But there was no one there, just the opposite end of the dusty classroom.

George turned his head toward the mirror again, his heart dropping as he saw himself standing next to his twin brother. George fell to the ground again, unable to stand up. He lifted his knees to his chest, hysterical tears streaming down his cheeks. Why was his dead brother inside a mirror? Again, a nagging thought tugged at his memory, but he hastily slapped it away. He didn't feel like remembering things right now. He stole a glance at the mirror from behind his legs. George could see himself huddled on the ground, but Fred was still standing. Tears rolling down his face faster than that on his crumpled brothers. Fred lifted his right hand and extended it to his brother on the other side of the mirror.

Watching Fred's hand it seemed to move in slow motion. George felt like he could see every muscle moving to reach out to him. He stood as slowly as he could manage, not taking his eyes off his brother's. Finally, on two feet and close enough to the mirror, close enough to reach out, George couldn't do it. He didn't think he could cope with being able to touch the mirror, a barrier between them and not Fred's hand. Fred's head turned slightly to one side, confused. George responded by slowly shaking his head. Fred lowered his hand and nodded, he understood his brother. And so they stood there staring at each other; inseparable brothers in different worlds.

_- George? George!_

Someone yelling his name frantically broke his full attention from the mirror, but although aware of his surroundings his eyes were immovable. Clattering footsteps came to a halt at the door of the classroom that George was in. A thunderous echo of more approaching feet cascaded toward the door where the first set of footsteps stood. A swift movement, only noticeable by the swarm of dust that encompassed the bottom half of George's body, left him once again alone in the classroom. He was vaguely aware of voices outside.

_- Just let me talk to him._

_- But he is my brother, Harry!_

His brain slowly registered those voices.. Ron? Harry?

_- Ron, let him do this. Trust him. _

Hermione voice, what could Harry possibly have to say to make him feel better? For the third time that nagging thought tugged ferociously at George's mind, bombarding through the barriers he had previously put up.

_He watched Ron and Harry walking across the Gryffindor common room in his third year at Hogwarts. Harry muttered something to his youngest brother and scrambled out the concealed portrait hole, disappearing as it swung shut behind him. But, not before George was able to catch a glimpse at the face of The Boy Who Lived, his eyes were sunk and bruised, his face pale and gaunt. George could still remember the feeling of worry that crept over him as Harry disappeared from his sight, the scruffy haired boy that had joined his band of brothers within the short six months that he had known him. _

_- Ron, come here._

_He waited for his slightly gangly younger brother to get to him before speaking._

_- What is Harry up to?_

_The sheepish look that drew all over Ron's face told George that he asked the right question._

_- Ron.._

_- It's not dangerous.. well not really.. kind of._

_- Ron._

_- Alright, alright. Harry found it the other night.._

That's where George had first heard of it: The Mirror of Erised. His eyes read along the top of the mirror backwards.

_- 'I show not your face but your heart's desire'._

The words escaped his dry lips in a mere whisper. Harry had sat in the classroom for days and nights watching this mirror in his first year at Hogwarts. Waiting for a moment of remembrance in the company of silent figures within the mirror, the parents he never knew.

Never knew...

But George knew Fred, _knows_ Fred. They were joined at the hip from the moment they were born. Everywhere George went Fred was beside him. He felt his hand rise and touch the mirror, Fred mirroring his action. They stood there staring at each other; this time there was no tears. He let his hand drop and travel to his chest, resting above his beating heart. Fred would never leave him. He may never be side him anymore, but he will always reside in his heart. In his soul. They will always be connected.

_- George..?_

Keeping his hand on his heart, he turned to face the boy who had lost so much in the short span of his life.

_- Harry._

They both stood in silence before Harry's green eyes became filled with tears. It was then that George realised that Harry's eyes were focussed, not on his but, upon the mirror. He could hardly bare to think of what Harry would see within it. George saw his torn shirt, crusted with dry blood from the previous battle hastily wipe away the tears from his eyes, a form of bravery that only Harry Potter could do.

- _A wise man once said to me, 'it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live'. He was the wisest man I have ever known. _

George could only stare at Harry, he did not expect him to say that. There was only one person who could have said those words; Albus Dumbledore. An image of the crooked face, sparkling blue eyed man formed in George's head. The man who had laughed the twins' jokes, appreciated their plans, encouraged their dreams…

_- Fred and I.. We had so many plans.. and dreams.._

Harry closed the distance between them in short strides; he placed his left hand upon George's shoulder, breaking his distanced stare.

_- Then live them, George._

George turned his head to look behind him. The Fred in the mirror sent him a trademark wink, setting the beginnings of a smile on George's cracked lips.

Harry began to guide him toward the door in silence, as they reached it George swung around. He had to look again, and this time he knew it would be the last. Harry gave him privacy and quietly left the room.

Within the mirror he saw himself and his twin brother, their arms wrapped around each other, laughing. The small smile on George's lips touched his eyes. Within the confines of the mirror Fred inclined his head toward his brother standing in the doorframe. Sending him a smile he wouldn't forget until they were together again. George smiled back.

_- I'll see you, Fred._


End file.
